


Vulnerable

by whiteroses77



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gold Kryptonite, M/M, Powerlessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: An incident on the streets of Gotham has Superman’s world crashing down around him, but it also turns Batman’s view upside down. Can Clark and Bruce adjust to the new situation?





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Vulnerable 1  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,757  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: An incident on the streets of Gotham has Superman’s world crashing down around him, but it also turns Batman’s view upside down. Can Clark and Bruce adjust to the new situation?

~B~

The battle on the streets of Gotham was over, and the Justice League was converging on the street. He mused that there was always a strange atmosphere after a battle, especially when the battle had been fought in plain view of the general public. How long did you hang around afterwards, did they try and help clear up some of the mess that undoubtedly happens in the course of the fight with powered or weapon toting bad guys. 

When he first started fighting crime, it had been easy for the mysterious Batman to just fade into the background, easy to play the benefactor and donate money for repairs as his alter-ego. However, all that had changed when he’d joined the Justice League and decided to follow the lead of the ultimate good guy. He smirked internally and his gaze found the man himself, he was down the street and a crowd of besotted fans were crowding around the red caped hero.

He wasn’t the only one of the Justice League who had admirers of course, but the public seemed to sense that Superman was more willing to spend time saying hello to them. Maybe it was that friendly smile that he shot their way. He understood; there had been a time when that smile had allured him.

He shook his cowl covered head, as he watched a young woman reach out, and a flustered Superman let her hug him. Then out of nowhere, there was a loud bang, and Batman was frozen for a moment in confusion and stared uncomprehendingly. As the woman pulled away and disappeared into the crowd, Superman stumbled and then fell to the blacktop. The crowd around him let out cries and screams of shock and horror. 

Then seconds later, adrenaline flooded Batman’s system, and he had the capacity to move again, and he ran down the street towards his injured comrade. He felt the rest of the Justice League hot on his heels. Years of responding to emergencies had his teammates already moving the crowd back, as Batman skidded to his knees over the fallen figure.

With surprise clearly in his eyes, Superman stared up at him, and he choked out, “Batman… what just happened?”

He swallowed hard, “I don’t know.” 

Then his eyes searched his teammate. There was blood painting his blue uniform, and with hands shaking with adrenaline, Batman found the bullet hole in his abdomen. Gingerly, he touched the aberration. 

His wounded friend wheezed, “It’s bad isn’t it?”

He grimaced, and urged, “Stay with me, Superman.”

Then he got a knife out of his utility belt, and with a tight jaw, he spent the next few minutes digging the bullet out of the supposedly impervious flesh. It wasn’t a pretty sight but getting the bullet, obviously Kryptonite bullet out was the priority right then. He felt the presence of a couple of his other teammates over his shoulder, but they stayed quiet and let him work. He sensed the quiet hush of the crowd as they too waited on edge.

Superman grinded his teeth in pain, and cried out as the bloody bullet came free. The crowd unconsciously echoed the cry with sympathy.

He stepped back, taking the bullet with him, taking it out of Superman’s radius. There was a long pause, as Batman waited for the sun to do its job, and heal his comrade. After an intense minute of waiting, Superman coughed, and wheezed then suddenly the red blood seeped darker in the blue fabric as too the gold of his shield began to disappear. 

At a loss, Batman turned and glanced at his comrades; he saw it was Green Arrow and Wonder Woman that had been standing looking over his shoulder, worry and anxiousness clearly on their faces. He said roughly, “He’s not healing.”

Green Arrow replied with emotion, “You know that’s impossible.” Then he crouched down to him, and he whispered, “Clark…?”

Superman’s eyes drooped as he replied, “Sorry.” Then he slumped unconscious.

Green Arrow turned around and he snapped, “What the fuck is happening?”

Batman felt sick as he saw the red House of El symbol fade into a background of crimson. Batman swallowed hard, and then he looked at the bullet in his palm. He thumbed it, and behind the blood, instead of the green he expected to see, it was gold there. “Shit!” he exclaimed. “We’ve got to get him to sickbay.”

~*~

An hour later, Batman entered the sick bay. He found Green Arrow sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, and as he moved around, his other teammate came into view. He was pale. His naked torso was wrapped in bandages, and he was propped up with white hospital pillows. As Batman saw him, Clark’s gaze found him, and Clark smiled with a brittle fondness.

Green Arrow patted Clark’s bare shoulder, and then stood up. He said, “I’ll see you later, Clark.”

“See you, Oliver.” Clark replied.

As Green Arrow turned and met Batman’s gaze, Oliver cringed, and shook his head minutely. Still facing Clark, Batman could only tilt his head stoically in acknowledgement. Their teammate left the room, and then Batman approached the bed. Clark gave him a tight smile, “Hey.”

Batman took a breath and then he reached for and pulled his cowl off. He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. He said quietly, “Hey.”

There was tension between them that wasn’t usually there. It was strained until he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Clark licked dry lips, and Bruce reached for the jug of water, and poured him a drink into a plastic cup. Automatically, he brought it carefully to Clark’s lips, but his friend smiled, and reached for the cup, and took it out of his hand. Clark took a sip, swallowed and said, “Thanks.” He half shrugged, “I have to stay still, but my arms are still working.”

Bruce half smiled half grimaced. There was another long moment, and then he asked, “How are you?”

The other man pinched his lips, “Apart from the gut wound, I’m fine.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled. He chided himself for asking such a stupid question.

Clark reassured, “I always wanted to be normal; I finally got my wish.”

“Don’t.” he reprimanded.

They were both quiet for a while, and then Clark said, “Thank you for saving my life.”

He replied, “I couldn’t not…” he frowned and shook his head at himself, “I mean… the thought of you not being there.”

“I guess after this, I won’t be there anyway.”

He tensed his jaw, and ground out, “I said don’t.”

Clark sighed, “I don’t mean to sound flippant… I just don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I.” he admitted.

“It was so unexpected… It always annoys you when I say hello to the crowd; it wouldn’t’ve happened if I’d been more like you. You don’t let anyone too close.” 

He tutted softly, feeling the sting of his words.

Clark saw his irritation, and snorted softly, “That wasn’t a dig; I just meant she’d have never got that close.” Then he frowned and queried, “It was a woman, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what it looked like.” He said.

Clark took another sip of water, and then said roughly, “I guess I got too comfortable, and thought that I only had to worry about the supervillains trying to kill me. Ever since I told the world Kal-El wasn’t born on Earth, I knew there were people who didn’t like it or were afraid to begin with, I naively thought the good that I do had tempered those feelings. She must’ve hated me to shoot me at point blank range.”

Reflexively, Bruce reached out to the bandage covering Clark’s abdomen. “Any higher and it would’ve got your heart.”

Clark watched his hand touching his covered wound, and he blinked slowly. Then he sniffled, and when Bruce glanced up, and met his teary gaze, Clark smiled fragilely, “What am I going to do now, Bruce?”

It was heart-breaking seeing the strongest person he knew at a loss. Though he knew it was hopeless, he coaxed, “We’re going to get everyone on this, science, mystic and we’ll find a cure if there is one.”

“There is no cure for gold Kryptonite, Bruce.” Clark said solemnly.

He had the overwhelming urge to take him in his arms, and cuddle him until everything was all right again. Instead, he moved his hand from the bandage, and he covered Clark’s hand with his, and gave it a squeeze. Clark’s fingers curled around his and squeezed back. Bruce took a slow breath feeling the strength in that hand, yet it wasn’t the same as the careful pressure of Superman’s touch that he’d felt in the past.

~*~

It had been a few weeks since the shooting; Clark had been discharged from medical, and returned to his apartment in Metropolis. Bruce tentatively observed his recovery from afar. Getting reports from Dr Hamilton and gossip from the people who were in Clark’s everyday life more than Bruce was. The sad truth was that he missed his companion. He hadn’t realised how often, at least once a week that Clark had breezed into the cave, sometimes for help, sometimes for a quick word, and sometimes staying and chatting, what normal people would call ‘hanging out’. He winced at the word normal. He guessed he was the only one of them that wasn’t normal now.

But without his super-speed, Clark didn’t come, couldn’t just blur in when he felt like it. Honestly, Bruce didn’t know if Clark felt like it, and he didn’t want to turn up on Clark’s doorstep wanting to hang out, what would Clark think if he did something like that out of the blue. And what would they talk about. He was sure Clark wouldn’t want to talk about the mission now.

He found out when Clark had returned to work at the Daily Planet. A few days after that, he saw his by-line on what Bruce knew Lois Lane would call a fluff piece. Bruce had to assume, Perry White had him taking it easy until he was completely healed. 

He knew that a couple of weeks ago, Dr Hamilton had removed his stitches. He knew that Clark had queried if he would need to get a new doctor now, not expecting to be treated by the JLA doctor anymore. He knew that Emil had insisted that Clark continue to be his patient.

The people that Bruce had on the case of finding a cure were at a dead end, gold Kryptonite was so rare that the research was hard going. Bruce remembered back before he met Superman, keeping tabs on the reports on the Red-Blue Blur and the oddities that surrounded his escapades, and his fights against powered people, even ones as powerful as himself. He remembered after meeting Clark, finding out about the facts behind some of the reports, during their long friendly chats.

He remembered finding out about Zod and the Kandorians, and finding out the truth behind Darkseid, and how his minions had tried to take Kal-El out of the antilife equation by trying to expose him to gold K. Back then, he’d found out that the gold K had been secured in the Metropolis Watchtower. Always on the defence, Batman had napped a piece to study. He’d set Wayne Tech scientists on creating a fail-safe in case some Kryptonians ever returned who weren’t as friendly as Clark, Conner and Kara Kent. 

At the memory, he swallowed hard. He went to the phone, and he called Lucius. 

Twenty minutes later, he got a call back from Lucius, and after a dread inducing conversation, he slammed down the phone with ire. Shit. That was what happened when you didn’t focus on what your own company was doing. God, what was he going to tell Clark?

~*~

He drove to Metropolis, and parked in the underground garage at the Daily Planet building. Then he went inside and made his way to Clark’s office. On the way, he nodded politely at Perry White, and continued on without stopping. He entered Clark’s office to find it empty. He frowned perplexed. Then he spied and corralled Jimmy Olsen, “Hello, Jimmy.” He said as he approached.

The young photographer’s eyes widened, and then he replied, “Oh hi, Mr Wayne, it’s been ages since you visited CK.”

Jimmy was right, even before the shooting it had been a while since he’d made the trip to Metropolis just to visit Clark. Bruce motioned to the empty office, “Any idea where Clark is?”

The young man swallowed, “He went home, he was really upset.”

On alert, Bruce asked, “Why what happened, he isn’t hurt is he?”

Jimmy shook his head, “Nah Mr Wayne, he had appendicitis a few weeks ago, but…”

He urged, “What happened today?”

“It was because of Ms Lane, she’s the one who got hurt.”

“Is she alright?”

“Well, yeah. She’s gonna be, she was on an assignment, some losers she was tailing threw her off a roof…”

“Oh, my god.” Bruce mumbled.

“Yeah, that was CK’s reaction too. She’s lucky, she only broke her leg but CK looked sick when the hospital rang and told Mr White. Then he just got up and said he was going home.”

Bruce nodded along, and then patted Jimmy’s shoulder, “Thanks for the info.”

He turned and made the reverse trip, back to his car, and then he headed for Clark’s apartment in midtown. As he drove, he imagined his friend’s melancholy and self-recrimination. Bruce had always thought that Lois Lane took too many chances; he knew it was partly down to subconsciously knowing she had her own guardian angel. Except, her guardian angel had had his wings clipped and now both investigative journalists were under serious physical restraints. 

He was relieved Lois was going to be fine. But now, he was dreading even more telling Clark why he and Lois were more prone to danger than ever before.

He pulled his car up on Clinton Street, and then headed inside. He got to Clark’s door and knocked. He waited. There was no answer. He wondered about that and then suddenly the answer came to him, Clark had told Jimmy that he was going home.

~*~

A couple hours later, he turned off Hickory Lane, and into the dirt driveway. He pulled his car into the gravelled yard and parked up. He took off his sunglasses, and then got out, and stretched out his frame. He glanced around the farmyard, and then his gaze focused on the farmhouse. It had been a while since he’d been here too. He took a breath, and then he headed up to it. He climbed the porch steps, and knocked on the door. 

A few moments later, the door was opened, and then raw desolate eyes met his. Clark’s brow creased but all he said was a confused, “What…?”

Bruce told him, “I found out what happened to Lois…” he shrugged, “I knew you’d be here.”

Clark tensed his jaw with emotion, and then he stepped back, so that Bruce could enter the kitchen. He followed him in, and glanced around the cosy kitchen, and then his eyes came to rest on Clark again. He was wearing blue jeans and a red plaid shirt as if he’d never left this place. 

He supposed it must be like a security blanket, just as much as coming back to his childhood home. He thought wryly; he had no room to talk when he was still living in his own childhood home. 

His friend turned and met his gaze, and said, “It’s been a while.”

He felt shame for not staying in contact. He agreed, “Yes, it has.”

Clark gazed at him mutely.

Bruce added, “I suppose I’m going to have to start pulling my weight in this friendship.”

His friend’s brow creased, and he said in bewilderment, “Are we still friends?”

He frowned with perplexity, “Of course, we’re still friends, what kind of question is that?”

Clark sighed, “It’s just hard figuring out where everything fits together now.”

Bruce smirked, “Well, we’re friends, Clark; you’re not getting rid of me.”

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Vulnerable 2  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 3,011  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce reveals what he found out to an emotional Clark.

~*~

He was sitting in the living room at the Kent farmhouse, he’d been here before, but it was always surprising to him how small the spaces were, even smaller than his penthouse at the top of Wayne Tower. He watched as Clark made some coffee in the kitchen, and he watched him bring the two mugs into the living room. He reached out and took one, and said, “Thanks.”

His friend gave him a twitch of a smile, and then took a seat with his own mug. Again, there were moments of silence. 

There had been many times they had shared needed silence during a mission, and shared comfortable silence between breaks in conversation during those friendly chats they used to have, however, those silences had been companionable. The silence between them now wasn’t. 

He noticed the black framed glasses lying on the coffee table.

When a chat wasn’t mission oriented, it was always Clark who started the conversation, always urging him to say more; now he found it was he who had to start. He took a sip of coffee out of the mug, and then said, “I can imagine how you’re feeling…” Clark glanced at him, and Bruce added, “...about Lois, about not being there for her.”

His friend bit at his own lip in agitation. Then he said quietly, “You think you know.”

Bruce nodded, “There’s been times I haven’t got there in time.”

Clark swallowed hard and nodded along. Then he uttered, “I couldn’t even try to get there, didn’t know about it until it was over.” he exhaled, “Useless now.”

His jaw tensed, “You’re not useless, Clark. Even I couldn’t have gotten there, hell without super-hearing Flash couldn’t have got there.” 

Clark uttered, “The super-hearing was the biggest burden, but now the silence is deafening.” 

He licked his lips, “You and Lois are just going to have to… ease up, and not take so many chances now.”

His friend looked away and shook his head. “My job is the only thing I’ve got now and I won’t be able to do that as well as I once did.”

“But you can still do it, just like any other journalist.”

“Next you're going to tell me that I can focus fully on my career now and I might be an even better journalist.”

“I wasn't, but it might be true.”

His friend reached out and fingered his glasses lying on the coffee table. He said, “I still have to wear these.” he snickered, “I still have to wear a disguise.” he glanced at him, “You know I didn't like wearing them at first, vanity I guess. I'd finally embraced my powers, accepted I wasn’t ever going to be normal, found my niche in the world but then I had to start pretending to be more normal than the next guy.”

Bruce smiled encouragingly, “You were good at it.”

Clark glanced at the glasses, and then turned back and looked at him again. Then he revealed, “Do you know that after my dad died, I took on the workload alone and kept this place going?”

“Yeah, you’ve said before.”

Clark rubbed his thumb against the rim of his mug, “I don’t know how he managed it all those years, being mortal and frail.” Clark licked his lips, “When I first got a job in the basement at the Planet, I still worked this place and then I started patrolling Metropolis too. Doing it all. It was only when the Red-Blue Blur came to the public’s attention that I focused more on that, then I got to write some small articles, and then I realised that my life felt like it was in Metropolis. I finally stopped and asked our neighbour Ben to take on the land.”

Bruce watched him beating himself up, and he wanted to shake some sense into him. “You can’t do what you used to, but you can’t let that knowledge paralyze you. You have to focus on what you still have.”

Clark snorted softly, but said hollowly, “Since when have you been a glass half full kind of guy?” 

He didn’t reply to the remark. 

Then his friend asked all of a sudden, “Why are you even here?”

The question shocked him, and he snapped, “Because you’re my friend, and team…”

Clark smirked and goaded, “Say it, teammate. Superman was the codename for a guy with superpowers, the powers are gone, and so your teammate is gone.”

Bruce stared at him.

His friend reached for his coffee, took a sip and said, “Come on Bruce, we’d have never been friends if it wasn’t for the powers, never been anything.”

He knew it was true about the friendship, he wouldn’t have given Clark Kent the reporter the chance to be his friend no matter how intelligent or great he was as a journalist. 

He gazed at the attractive man, and realised without his powers he’d have never worn his glasses, would that have made a difference… he didn’t know. 

But what he did know was, “It doesn’t matter how we became close, and the rest of the League will feel the same.”

Clark rubbed his hand over his face. He harrumphed quietly, “You said paralysed before, losing my powers isn’t as bad as that but…”

“But…?” Bruce urged.

“Imagine a virtuoso concert pianist, who gets crippling arthritis in his fingers, he isn’t dead or paralyzed but he can’t play, can’t create the music or the magic he used to. How long do you think the rest of the orchestra is going to let him come to the recitals and just sit there amongst them with nothing to contribute?”

Bruce responded roughly, “It doesn’t mean the pianist can’t teach, or go for coffee with the others afterwards.”

Clark laughed harshly, “So says the fucking brilliant Stradivarius playing violinist.”

He was close to the edge, and anyone but Clark Kent would’ve pushed him over by now. He replied spitefully, “Without your powers, you don’t have to be a nice guy anymore, is that it?”

The man, who he was finding it so hard to recognise, only squinted at him.

Then the back door opened, and carrying in a large jar of peaches, Martha Kent called, “It turned out to be the last one in the cellar.”

She put the jar down on the kitchen counter, and then glanced into the living room. Her eyes widened and she said, “Oh, hello Bruce, I should’ve guessed who that fancy car in the yard belonged to.”

He put his mug down on the table, and stood up, and approached her, and offered his hand, “It’s so nice to see you again, Martha.”

His friend’s mother took the offered hand, and smiled, “You’ve come all this way to talk some sense into my son, Bruce?”

He smiled boyishly, “I’m trying.”

A moment later, they heard the door open and then bang shut, and Bruce saw that Clark had walked out without a word. He turned back to Martha Kent, and he saw the worry on her face blossom now that she didn’t need to keep it in check in front of her son. 

Bruce said, “I’ve never seen him like this before, even after we…”

Martha grimaced, “I have.” At Bruce’s curious look, she revealed, “There was some tough times when he was growing up, especially when we told him the truth about how we found him in that field, and especially after his dad died.” 

“Massive life changes, I know what that’s like.” He sympathised. 

The motherly figure reached out and squeezed his arm comfortingly. 

Bruce said, “I have no idea what losing his powers after having them for so long must feel like…”

Martha inhaled and exhaled, “I believe it’s a little different for Clark, he always had a love-hate relationship with his abilities, and when they were kicking in, he’d have done almost anything for that tiny piece of gold Kryptonite, done anything not to feel like an alien.”

“He told me that he struggled, I guess I didn’t understand how bad he felt back then.”

“Yes, but what made him except and then embrace his abilities was that they helped him help people. You know my son, Bruce; he wants to help, it’s intrinsic in him.”

It wasn’t just that Lois got hurt; Clark was torn apart because he couldn’t take action to help people. His heart ached, “But now he can’t.”

Martha let out a shaky breath, and Bruce asked worriedly, “Are you all right, Martha?”

Careworn eyes gazed into his, and she asked, “You and my son are close, has he ever told you about the summer that Jor-El took his abilities away?”

Bruce’s brow creased, and he nodded, “Yes, he told me about how hard work it was working alongside his dad without powers, and he said he’d had some good times with his girlfriend.”

Martha smiled in remembrance, and then her smile became broken, “That’s right, and Jonathan and I thought that we didn’t have to worry anymore. But even without his abilities, he was still inquistive and he still tried to help others. The damn AI’s trial only ended when Clark was shot, and without Jor-El giving his abilities back, Clark would’ve died at eighteen years old.”

He nodded along mutely seeing her pain; he didn’t know how to comfort her. 

Finally, she told him, “I’m afraid he’ll end up getting himself hurt just as Lois has, or even worse.”

Bruce said earnestly, “I’ll do whatever I can.”

The older woman’s smile grew stronger, and then she invited, “Are you staying for dinner, I’m baking peach pie for dessert.”

“I’d be obliged, Martha. Thank you.”

~*~

He went outside, and left his friend’s mother to prepare and cook for them. He followed the sounds coming out of the barn. He entered to find Clark determinedly chopping wood with an axe. He watched him swing the axe with grit. When Clark stopped a second to set up another log, Bruce interrupted, “Your mom invited me to dinner.”

Clark blew out a breath, and said sarcastically, “Great.”

He said, “She’s worried about you, thinks you’re going to get yourself killed trying to help someone.”

His friend let the axe drop from his hand, and then turned around. He said cynically, “Ah yes but this time it’ll be for keeps, no more cheating death.”

At the oblique reference to gold K, Bruce remembered why he was here, why he’d made the trip in the first place. He took a fortifying breath, and then he spoke, “I got some information about the gold K today.”

Clark turned and met his gaze with curiosity, and he said, “There isn’t a cure.”

He shook his head, “No, not yet. This is about where the gold K came from.”

“Let me guess, Krypton?”

The flippantness was beginning to grate on his nerves. He ground out, “Yes, but more recently.” At Clark’s full attention, he admitted, “Wayne Tech.”

“Wayne Tech…?”

“A couple of years ago, I was trying to make a fail-safe, a backup plan.” 

“A couple of years, you mean when we were…”

He licked his lips nervously, “Just before… um I didn’t want to kill anybody so green was out, and blue is only a temporary measure, but gold, it was the perfect solution, neutralize them, take the powers out the equation and then they could be dealt with by the human authorities.”

Clark was staring at him, then he asked blankly, “Them, you mean me?”

He shook his head in the negative, “You’re definitely the blue.”

His friend shrugged, “Conner, Kara…?”

He said forthrightly, “If there was no other choice but mainly for Kryptonians like Zod.”

Clark asked, “And that day on the streets of Gotham, your city.”

He admitted, “I overlooked the project, but the scientist in charge of the project… didn’t. Lucius investigated and it turns out she wanted to please me…”

“Please you?”

“She convinced herself that I must want all Kryptonians neutralized. She saw her chance that day in Gotham.”

“So one of your tarts did you a favour…?”

“You know that’s not how it is.”

Clark turned away, and Bruce took a breath, and then suddenly Clark swung around and punched in the face. The shot stung, and he stumbled but it was the unexpectedness of the blow that was the most disorienting. 

He shook his head and then met Clark’s gaze and his friend smiled viciously at him. Bruce narrowed his eyes, rubbed his jaw and asked nonchalantly, “How long have you wanted to do that huh?”

Clark lifted his arms out to the sides, and sneered, “As you said, I don’t need to hold anything back anymore.”

Bruce stepped forward, “Is that right, and you think you can take me.”

The other man shook his head and laughed, “Of course not, without my powers it’s a farm boy against a ninja.”

“And you think I’m just going to take It.” he shook his head, “I won’t take it from anyone, not even you.”

Clark goaded, “You should be happy, Bruce. Now you get to be the best, no competition. They might even let you be the leader.”

At the insult, he slipped over the edge, and he lashed out quick and violent, and Clark stumbled and hit the floor of the barn hard. 

He breathed heavily as he watched as Clark pushed himself up. Clark chuckled, and he touched his lip where he was bleeding, he looked at the blood. Then he mused with a smirk, “I bet you’ve always wanted to do that huh? Have the upper hand, be Superman’s superior.”

Bruce shook his head, appalled at Clark’s attitude and appalled that he’d drawn blood from someone he classed as his closest friend. He turned away, “This is over.”

He began walking away, but then Clark grabbed his arm, “You’re not supposed to turn your back on…”

He turned, and he grasped Clark’s wrist, and he twisted until Clark let go of him. They were face to face, tension brimming between them, and Clark tried to pull his wrist away but Bruce didn’t let go. Bruce warned him lowly in Batman’s tone, “Just relax.”

Clark’s nostrils flared, and then suddenly his lips were pressed to Bruce’s. 

Bruce jerked his head back, and let go of Clark’s wrist, and he growled, “What the hell…?”

His friend’s gaze lingered on his mouth and then he murmured, “You should know, to get free do anything it takes.”

Bruce wiped his mouth, and shook his head, “Congratulations, you’ve just graduated to being an asshole.”

Then he turned and headed out the barn, he was almost to his car when Mrs Kent appeared on the porch drying her hands with a towel. Shit, he was caught between ire and politeness. No matter Clark’s abrasive attitude, the politeness to the lady showing him hospitality won out. 

He took a breath and smiled and called out, “I’m just getting my phone.”

Martha nodded along.

He went to the car and got his phone, and then headed back into the farmhouse. He entered to find Martha preparing the pie filling, the pastry already lining the pie tin. She glanced up momentarily, “Is he all right?”

Bruce didn’t want to disclose their argument, so he just said, “He needs more time.”

His friend’s mom nodded sagely. Then she turned and checked the pans bubbling away on the stove. As the kitchen door opened, he turned to look. Clark met his gaze fleetingly, and muttered harshly, “You’re still here.”

Martha turned back, and she saw her son’s cut lip, and then she looked to Bruce again. Bruce grimaced, and Clark walked past, and went upstairs. Then Martha said with a sigh, “I won’t ask.”

Bruce swallowed hard, and said, “I think I should leave.”

The older woman reached out, and grasped his hand, “Please don’t. My son needs you.”

He said roughly, “You’ve just seen what my kind of help is. He doesn’t want me here.”

The loving mother quietly entreated, “That’s not true, all these weeks, every time I’ve spoken to him on the phone, he mentioned that you hadn’t come to see him. I don’t know why you didn’t; you must’ve been busy huh?”

He winced and bowed his head, and confessed, “I didn’t know what to say to him.”

She said coaxingly, “I understand, honey, but he needed you, still needs you.”

He remembered not going to see Clark, and not wanting Clark to know he was missing him. Suddenly, he had an epiphany, and he excused himself. He headed up the stairs. 

On the landing, he went to Clark’s childhood bedroom. As he opened the door, he saw Clark standing by the window, with his arms crossed over his plaid covered chest.

He approached cautiously, and as he reached the window; he saw that he had a plain view of the yard, and his car. Bruce uttered, “That car’s not moving any time soon.”

The voice that replied was rough with emotion, “You should just leave.”

Bruce answered, “That’s what you’ve been trying to do, isn’t it, make me leave. But you of all people should know I don’t scare so easily.”

There was silence from his friend, and Bruce reached out, and tugged on his arm, and Clark turned and met his gaze. Bruce’s heart clenched seeing restrained tears in his friend’s eyes.

Clark confessed fragilely, “I waited. I waited weeks for you. Then I reconciled myself to the fact you didn’t want to be friends anymore, but now you’re here and I don’t know what to do.”

Heartfelt, he whispered, “I’m so sorry I didn’t come to you sooner.”

Clark sniffled softly, and then he went to move towards him, and then hesitated. Instinctively, Bruce opened his arms and Clark pulled him into a hug that Bruce responded to fiercely.

 

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Vulnerable 3  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,546  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce finds old feelings rising to the surface.

~B~

Their eyes kept meeting across the dining table as they ate the meal that Mrs Kent had cooked. The looks between them was a mixture of relief, and bemusement at their interactions today. Bruce had been explaining the situation with Wayne Tech and the gold Kryptonite again this time without fists flying. 

“It was in case you weren’t there to be the shield for some reason, honestly it wasn’t meant to harm, Clark.” he said. Directed at Clark, he said meaningfully, “You should know that.”

Martha said, “You said she was trying to please you…?”

He nodded, “According to Lucius, when he investigated she was at first disappointed that I hadn’t come to congratulate her in person, and then when Lucius castigated her for her maverick actions, she became hysterical.”

Clark spoke, “So you didn’t know her.”

He understood the context of the knowing that Clark had implied earlier in the barn. He said earnestly, “No, I remember meeting the scientists when I delivered the sample to the lab, but she didn’t stand out in my mind. I didn’t recognise her on the street that day.”

His friend nodded along, knowing that at that point in time he’d had only one growing romantic interest. Martha stood up and went to the kitchen and returned with the warm peach pie that she had baked. As she sliced it up, Martha commented, “I guess, after studying it, and working on the project for so long without any recognition it must’ve caused something to fester inside her.”

She passed Bruce a piece of pie. Bruce took the plate, and breathed in the heavenly aroma. He reached for a spoon. Bruce told them, “I just wish I’d have checked in on the project. She might’ve realised that I didn’t want all Kryptonians neutralized.”

“So what’s happened to her?” Clark asked, as he accepted his own plate.

Bruce groaned around a mouthful of sweet peach and pastry. He glanced up and saw Clark was watching him with a look of avarice on his face. Bruce smirked and goaded, “Eat your own.”

Clark shook his head and pursed his lips, and then he took his first mouthful of his own dessert.

Bruce turned to see Martha take her seat, with her own dessert in front of her. He complimented, “This is delicious Martha, thank you for inviting me.”

“My pleasure.” the lady of the house replied.

His friend grinned, “You are honoured, Mom. Bruce doesn’t usually have dessert.”

Martha smiled in response, “He always eats what I fix for him, don’t you, Bruce?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he said wryly. 

There was a long moment of silence, and then returning to the question Clark had posed before, he hissed through his teeth, “Lucius is going to talk to Jim Gordon and the doctors at Arkham. It’s just difficult to know how to manoeuvre; we haven’t made a concrete statement to the press about Superman. There were witnesses who saw you get shot and go down, they saw us whisk you off…”

Clark said, “It’s been hard enough, without deciding whether to tell the world that Superman’s dead or just gone.”

Martha put down her own spoon and reached across the table and squeezed Clark’s arm, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to rush, just take your time.”

Bruce concurred, “I’ve put it off because I’ve been hoping for a cure to be found. She can’t be charged with murder, attempted maybe.” He met his friend’s gaze, “But you’re wrong, Superman isn’t gone, you’re who Superman is, it’s only your powers that are gone. 

He watched as Clark gave him a twitch of a smile, but he also saw Martha wince slightly. Bruce said, “I know that’s what’s worrying you Martha that he’s going to get himself in trouble because of that protective instinct that’s so much a part of him…”

Clark spoke up, “Not being able to help is what’s been eating me up inside, and not being able to stand beside Bruce when trouble comes a calling. A part of me thinks it might be for the best to find a different path, one away from that life altogether and the temptation to put myself in harm's way.” 

Unconsciously, Bruce was shaking his head hating the idea of Clark not being in his life, he didn’t realise he was doing it until Clark smiled, a smile he had missed seeing.

His friend continued, “Almost everyone that I care about all their lives are touched by danger, nevertheless I don’t think I can do that, I don’t want to give up on all those friends.”

“So what are you thinking about?” he wondered.

“Give me a chance.” Clark said with a fond smirk. “I’ve only just turned the corner.” 

Bruce smiled back, enjoying the lightness of spirit that was returning to his friend. He finished his last bite of pie, savouring it with a hum.

Clark blinked slowly in response.

Martha chuckled, and then suggested, “Clark, how about you clear these plates for me while I watch my show in the living room.” 

His friend chuckled, “Okay, Mom.”

Martha went off to the living room, and Bruce raised an eyebrow at his friend. Clark laughed again, and then stood up and reached for the dishes and began collecting them together. Automatically, Bruce mirrored him, and began helping. Clark teased, “I didn’t even realise you knew how to clear up, Master Bruce.”

Bruce shook his head, “There’s a lot that you don’t know.”

“Huh-huh.” Clark uttered, while he carried the dishes to the sink, and then over his shoulder, he asked, “Do you want coffee?”

He confirmed, “Please.”

Then Clark called to the living room, “Coffee, Mom?”

Martha called without taking her eyes from the TV, “Yes, Sweetheart.”

Clark reached out to the coffeemaker, but he grimaced as he did so. Bruce’s brow creased, “What’s the matter?”

His friend pressed the button, and then glanced at him for only a moment, and admitted, “When I hit the barn floor.”

“You okay?” he asked, feeling a little responsible for his friend’s pain.

Clark replied, “Yeah, it just wrenched my shoulder, that’s all.”

His friend filled the sink with hot soapy water, and then began washing the dishes. Feeling a little uneasy doing nothing, Bruce turned to busy himself. He got the mugs out, and got the sugar and then the cream out the fridge. 

When he’d done that, he turned and watched Clark washing up. He took a breath, and tried for conversation. “So, it must be an experience feeling pain, or is like taking the blast of a nuclear missile or something.”

His friend continued his task, but smiled, “I’ve felt pain before; much worse than a jarred shoulder or a nuclear missile.”

Bruce stared at him a long moment, and then it came to him, and grimaced, “Green Kryptonite.”

Clark nodded along, and then told him, “It’s not really the pain that’s the problem at the moment; that can heal. It’s getting used to the tension.”

“Tension…?” he wondered.

“Yeah, it’s strange getting used to the ache and tension in my body.”

Clark finished off the washing up, dried his hands, and then reached for the jug of coffee, he poured a mug and finished it off with sugar, and then he took it into the living room and handed it over to his mother. She smiled with affection, “Thank you, Sweetheart.” as she accepted it.

Bruce smiled at the quiet indication of affection between mother and son. He felt a little niggle of envy, but that was all. His friend returned and fixed their coffees for them. As Clark added cream and sugar the way that Bruce liked it, and then pushed his mug towards him, Bruce joked, “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

Clark stilled for a second, and then rolled his eyes at him, and parried, “You’re welcome, Baby.”

He tittered in reaction. 

Then he saw Clark reach for his own mug, and as he lifted it to his lips, he saw him grimace slightly with pain. Bruce sighed loudly, and then suggested, “Let me see this shoulder.” His friend frowned in reaction. But Bruce urged, “I just want to make sure I didn’t cause a serious problem.”

His friend rolled his eyes again, and sighed, “I’ll be fine.”

He mock glared at him.

Clark chuckled, “Okay Batman, okay.”

Then Clark reached for his buttons, and unbuttoned his plaid shirt. He slipped it just off his shoulders, so that Bruce could evaluate the problem. He approached, and he saw a bruise had blossomed, not a bad bruise but it was right on the shoulder blade. He muttered, “The skin isn’t broken, I don’t think it’ll be too bad.”

Over his shoulder, Clark said, “See, I told you.”

Then he went to slip the shirt back on, and winced at the movement. Bruce grumbled, and then caught the shirt, and drew it down Clark’s arms, and off. He turned and laid the shirt on the worktop. As he turned back, he saw Clark was looking at him curiously. His own eyes travelled over Clark’s naked torso, he saw the scar high on his abdomen from the gunshot and then back to his face. Then he motioned to a stool, “Take a seat.”

Clark rolled his eyes again, and then harrumphed and then sat down on the stool indicated. Then Bruce stepped up behind him. Clark groaned softly as Bruce’s hands met his soft skin. Bruce focused around the muscles surrounding the bruise, and not the bruise itself, and began massaging, and working the tension out of his mortal friend.

As Bruce’s thumbs kneaded Clark’s trapezius, he felt the tension there and in response, Clark’s head lolled forward and he hissed and he sighed in turn. Bruce moved on, and ran his hands down his muscular tanned back, and then pushed his thumbs up either side of his spine. Even as Clark’s noises were soft, Bruce’s own breathing sounded loud to his own ears. He licked his lips, and murmured, “You’re still looking good, Clark.”

Clark hummed, “For now, I guess I’m going to have to go on a health kick if I want to keep looking this way.”

Bruce’s hands measured both his lats, and then up to his shoulders again. He suggested, “I could design you a program to keep fit.”

His friend groaned, “I don’t need to be at your level now, Bruce.”

He pushed his hands up to Clark’s neck, and kneaded gently, his fingers running up into his soft black hair. Clark moaned, “God, yes.”

Bruce took a slow breath as the skin of his own body goose bumped hearing that echo from the past. He asked raspily, “Is that good?”

“Yes, Bruce.” Clark confirmed.

His breath stuttered, and the tension he was trying to relieve Clark of, filled his own body, and he tried to pull away and stop. But Clark murmured, “Don’t stop, your hands feel so good.”

He returned his hands to Clark’s warm body, yet it wasn’t as warm as it once was. His thumbs slid through moist perspiration at his friend’s nape. He murmured hoarsely, “You’re sweating.”

Clark only sighed in response. 

Bruce worked his thumbs into his neck, and then gently against the sides, almost to his throat. Clark hissed again at the tender spots. Bruce moistened his lips again, hearing those little hurt sounds. To distract his self, he queried, “So you want me to design that fitness regime…” he breathed deeply, and the scent of his friend’s skin filled his nose. He added, “… nothing drastic, just to keep you strong and fit.”

His friend sighed intoxicatingly again, “If you want.”

He ran his hands down his biceps, “I could show you some stretching techniques too. That would help with the tension.”

His thumbs returned to the small of his back, Bruce breathed through his nose, as he slipped them just below his jeans waistband. He swallowed hard, and then he moved them up and then around, and his flat palms skimmed over Clark’s abs, feeling the raised skin of his scar and then up to his strong chest. His friend only groaned in response, as he cupped and massaged his pectoral muscles.

He was startled when he heard a noise, and he turned and saw Martha Kent put her coffee mug in the sink. Uncharacteristically, Bruce felt himself blush, but Martha only raised an eyebrow, and revealed, “I’m going to use the bathroom while the ads are on.”

Then she turned and headed upstairs.

Clark called softly, “Hey.”

“Huh?” he replied.

“Come on.”

He knew that when having a good massage you never wanted it to end, so he knew Clark wanted more. He said, “I think that’s enough.”

Clark whined softly, and then turned around on the stool. He looked flushed, and his hair had fallen over his forehead, and he looked like he’d had more than a massage. Clark met his gaze, and he must’ve recognised something in Bruce’s eyes because his nostrils flared. Bruce shook his head, “I think I should be getting back to Gotham.”

He watched as Clark reached up and combed the hair away from his forehead with his fingers unintentionally highlighting his bicep, then he stood up and stepped closer and murmured, “You’ve come a long way, why don’t you stay the night.”

Bruce cleared his throat, “I don’t want to trouble your mom, setting up the guest room and everything.”

Clark nodded and stepped even closer, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“We’ve been through this.” he said.

His friend uttered, “And it didn’t work.”

Bruce’s chest heaved and he made a confession that was years withheld, “No, it worked too well.”

Clark leaned in and Bruce felt his breath on his lips. “I always thought that, it was you who wanted to go back to being just friends.”

“We’ve never been just friends, Clark.” he rumbled.

His beautiful heavy lidded eyes, focused on Bruce’s lips, and then those full lips met his for the second time today, but this time, Bruce moaned and he opened his mouth and kissed him back. His hands grasped Clark’s naked back, and little whines of desperation echoed between them.

A floorboard on the stairs creaked, and they both jumped away. Bruce reached for his coffee mug and took a mouthful of lukewarm coffee. He winced. Then he watched Martha Kent arrive back downstairs. Clark reached for and slipped his shirt back on. Then they met each other’s gaze. Then Clark smiled, and called over his shoulder to his mother, “Mom, Bruce is going to stop the night is that all right?”

Bruce glared his friend.

Martha Kent’s keen eyes found them. Then she nodded, “That’s fine, you know where everything is, Bruce.”

He took a deep breath and concurred, “Yes, Martha I remember where everything is.” 

Clark smiled a smile that was both teasing, and excitable. Bruce shook his head, and deferred, “I’ll have to ring Alfred first, and make sure that I’m not needed in Gotham tonight.”

His friend nodded along, “Say hi for me.”

 

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Vulnerable 4  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,875  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce stays over.

~S~

As Clark took a sweep of the property, checking everything was fine before retiring for the night; Bruce was taking a quick shower in the bathroom. He still felt tense. Clark had corralled him in and the only way to escape was running away off into the night like a frightened deer. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to do that. 

He remembered their kiss and the feeling of his skin under his palms, how his muscles filled his measuring hands. 

From the moment that he’d seen Superman fall on the street, Bruce’s emotions had been stirred. Those weeks without him in his life had been a shock to the system, and now he was all a whirl. He didn’t know what to do. 

He knew what he wanted to do. 

His kiss had tasted of sweet peach and coffee. 

He was jolted out of his rumination, as the bathroom door opened and closed. He took a deep breath, and then turned the spray off. As he opened the shower curtain, his gaze met watchful eyes. He didn’t cover up, or try to hide; they were well past any blushes. He stepped out, reached for a fluffy lilac towel and wrapped it around his hips.

Clark groaned under his breath, and he reached out and his thumb found the scar just above his hip. “This one is new.”

At his touch, Bruce echoed his groan, and then turned around and showed him his back. “This one’s from last year, you know that time Joker was playing about with yo-yo chakrams. 

He felt Clark reach out and trace it, as he said, “You were lucky you weren’t sliced in half.”

“Yeah.” he agreed roughly.

He felt Clark’s soft lips brush over his back, and he shivered. He said, “We shouldn’t do this, it’s just the trauma we’ve been through, I think.”

“We’ve…?” Clark asked against his nape.

“Yes, we’ve…” he didn’t explain that it had been an ordeal for him as well. “We both know the decision we made was for the best.”

His friend retorted, “We didn’t make the decision, you did.”

Bruce snorted at the absurdity of his statement, “Well since that day until now, you’ve seemed completely fine with it.”

Clark ran his hands over Bruce’s wet naked back, and said gravelly, “When you have a summer long fling with your best friend, and then he tells you one day that he wants to go back to normal, what are you supposed to do if you want to stay friends.”

“I don’t know.” He admitted with a shaky breath. With hindsight, it had been easier than he expected.

His friend’s hands left him, and then Clark walked around in front of him, and then met his gaze. Then with his gaze locked with his, Clark unbuttoned his own shirt slowly. Undisguised, Bruce’s eyes devoured his body again. Then Clark murmured, “What you do is, you wait until you catch him looking at you like he did that summer.”

Clark’s hands went to his fly and then he toed off his boots, and then dropped his jeans and boxer shorts and stepped out of them. Then naked he turned and entered the shower. Bruce’s nostrils flared with arousal. With his eyes on the shower curtain, he took his towel from around his hips, and he dried himself off. In the event that he might meet Clark’s mom on the landing, he slipped his own boxer’s and jeans back on to avoid embarrassment.

After a few minutes, Clark left the shower, and he found Bruce waiting for him. Clark’s eyes were serious, and then he swallowed hard. Then he took two steps towards him in the small bathroom. In the silence, only their breathing could be heard, and then together they took each other’s mouth softly but fiercely. Their tongues met again and again. 

Then uncharacteristically, Clark pulled away gasping for breath, he panted, “I’ve missed you.”

They’d never stopped being friends, never lost contact but Bruce knew what he meant and two years of frustration worked its way through his nerves, and then exploded in movement. He grasped his wet friend, and spun him around, and bended him over the bathroom sink. Clark gasped at the sudden manhandling, his hands automatically braced against the porcelain for balance and he looked up and met Bruce’s gaze through the reflection of the vanity mirror. 

Bruce pressed his denim clad crotch up against Clark’s bare ass cheeks, and watched Clark’s reaction in the reflection. The colour of Clark’s beautiful eyes was bright and clear in the light of the bathroom, but his pupils were dilated. Clark asked with purpose, “Is this what you want, because you always liked it the other way.”

In the reflection, he saw himself smile fiercely in response. He reminded, “But there were times you let me have your incredibly tight divine ass.”

Clark’s eyes were locked on his through the mirror, “Yes, I did.”

“Yes, I know.” He taunted, “You know the biggest turn on fucking Superman was, knowing the most powerful person on this planet would let me have anything and everything I wanted without a fight.”

His friend licked his lips, and goaded, “And now I’m mortal you want a fight?”

Bruce grinned and then he kicked at Clark’s ankles and forced him to spread his legs wider. The action made Clark have to lean further over the sink, and it presented his glorious ass to Bruce’s view. He watched in the reflection as Clark breathed deeply. Bruce’s hardening cock pressed uncomfortably against his zipper. He ran his hands over the swells of Clark’s ass cheeks, and then he pressed in and tested his asshole with his fingertip. 

He mused, “Still so tight, I wonder if it still tastes as good.”

Clark’s eyes darted to him in the mirror. Bruce returned that intense look, and then purposefully he leaned over and he kissed his shoulder, and then down his spine, down the valley and then his tongue met his friend’s hole. 

Clark moaned, “God, yes.”

Bruce moaned in muffled echo against the tight gathering of shower wet skin. His hands grasped and spread his ass cheeks and got in deeper, and licked with slow intent. His friend whined softly. Bruce pulled back panting and he told him, “You taste so good, you always did.”

His friend’s hand found the back of his head, his fingers grasping Bruce’s damp hair and held him.

Bruce growled in response, and Clark’s responding cry echoed in the small bathroom. 

Bruce pulled back, as he remembered their surroundings. He got up, and wiped his wet mouth. Lust drunk eyes, surrounded by wet eyelashes met his in the mirror. Bruce’s nostrils flared, he bent over and grasped Clark’s jeans from the floor and he tossed them to his friend. “Come on.”

Clark pushed away from the sink and turned around. He grabbed a towel first and quickly towelled off his damp golden flesh and then slipped back into his jeans without his underwear, and asked, “Where’re we going?”

“You know where.” He replied gravelly.

He reached out and he opened the bathroom cabinet and he selected some thick body lotion, and slipped it in his pocket.

~*~

Barefoot and shirtless, they sneaked out of the farmhouse, and traversed the gravel yard with small yelps as the coarse shingle dug into their feet. They entered the barn, and then climbed the stairs to the loft. At the top of the stairs, there was a decision before them; one side was Clark’s old teenage loft where there was a dusty old couch and the other side the hayloft. Clark grasped his hand and led him into the hayloft.

Almost to the hay, Bruce pulled his friend back and they embraced and kissed each other passionately. 

Bruce reached between them and unfastened Clark’s jeans, turned him around, pushed him up against a wide support post. 

Knowing he was in control physically turned him on just as much as in the past when Superman bowed only to his will. He fell back down to his knees and continued what he had started in the bathroom. He buried his face into the valley of Clark’s ass cheeks and devoured his centre.

This time Clark’s breathy cries weren’t an obstacle they only inflamed Bruce’s desire even more as he licked and savoured the yielding flesh. 

Soon the pressure against his trapped cock was getting painful, so he tore himself away, stood up, and he manhandled his lover, and pushed him towards the hay. With his jeans around his thighs, Clark stumbled, and landed on his hands and knees in the hay. Bruce smiled viciously and stalked him. He unfastened his own jeans on the way, and his cock sprang out hard and heavy. 

He followed Clark down into the hay, grasped and pulled Clark’s jeans all the way off. Then he grasped his lover’s hips again and flailed his tongue at Clark’s yielding ass again. 

His lover groaned, “Bruce, fuck yes.”

Bruce flipped him over, and their eyes locked. Then he took Clark’s mouth fiercely, and kissed him until Clark’s lips were kiss bruised. Bruce murmured against them, “I’ve missed these lips.”

Clark licked them slowly, and then smiled up at him with delight. 

Bruce rubbed his thumb over that mouth, and then he sat up and straddled Clark’s chest. Clark’s eyes focused on Bruce’s hard cock with serious intent. Bruce grinned and he grasped it and he played it over Clark’s lips. It was a tease, he was teasing himself, but he couldn’t deny himself a second longer, and he guided his cock into his best friend’s mouth. 

Soft pink lips enveloped the head and sucked, and Bruce hissed at the devilish jolt of pleasure. He pushed in deeper, and his lover moaned around it. He stared down and watched himself thrust into his friend’s mouth, stretching those pretty lips around his cock. 

His rhythm picked up and with wild abandon he went deeper, over and over relishing Clark’s skill until Clark gagged as Bruce’s cock head hit his throat. His tawdry desire was to carry on and gag him again, but instead he withdrew and clamoured down, he kissed his cheek as Clark caught his breath. 

He murmured against his cheek, “I’ve never seen you choke on my cock before.”

Clark groaned and panted, “I guess there are some drawbacks to being mortal.”

Bruce chuckled, and caught his mouth, and then told him, “You were doing so well too.” 

He kissed his jaw and then his throat and he enjoyed hearing Clark’s moan of pleasure. He kissed down his torso until he got to Clark’s erection. He glanced up, and teased, “This looks the same.”

Clark laughed heartily and said, “I’ve missed that too.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow coquettishly, “You’ve missed me sucking your cock?”

“I meant the playfulness…” he grinned, “I’ve missed you sucking my cock too, by the way.”

He studied the gorgeous cock that was hard for him. Then he took it into his mouth and he tasted it with his tongue. He went down as much as he could; enjoying everything about it, the feel, the taste, as well as watching Clark watching him. He returned to the head and teased it with his tongue and then went down again. 

Clark said throatily, “You’ve missed that too, haven’t you, I know you have.”

The look in his lover’s eyes and his words had Bruce reaching for his own cock and stroking it, as he continued sucking his lover off.

Until Clark ordered softly, “Come here.”

Bruce pulled off, and then he crawled forward, and kissed Clark’s lips, and Clark murmured, “Keep going.”

He knew what he was saying, what he was wanting and he stood up and he dropped his jeans, and then stepped forward. 

If this had been something brand new Bruce probably would’ve hesitated about pushing boundaries before you knew where you stood with each other. But this was rekindling an old flame, and they’d got past self-consciousness back during their summer of love.

He straddled Clark’s face, and then he reached for and he spread his own ass cheeks. He moaned with unabashed pleasure as his lover’s moist tongue met his asshole. “Yes, Clark.” he praised.

Clark’s hands grasped his hips, and then they covered Bruce’s as he held himself on offer. Clark groaned against him, and teased him open with his tongue.

It was slow compared to the spectacular rimming he’d received before, but it didn’t stop him grinding down and panting with need. “You still eat my ass so fucking well.”

Clark moaned hungrily against him in reply.

As it went on, Bruce was mesmerised by his own cock, standing away from his body, rock hard and flexing intermittently. 

Finally, he needed more, and he crawled back, and he reached for his jeans and retrieved the body lotion from his pocket. Clark was flushed with arousal and his face was sweaty from his diligence and Bruce complimented, “You look incredible all sweaty.”

Clark watched intensely as Bruce opened the tube and got some on his fingers.

As Bruce reached back, and smeared it over his own entrance, Clark spoke huskily, “I thought you wanted to take me.”

Bruce smirked and leaned forward and kissed his mouth, “You were right about me.” 

Then they kissed slowly again, and Clark rubbed his cock head against Bruce’s entrance. “You look incredible straddling me, you always did.”

Bruce groaned, and then he gathered himself a little, and then he slowly sat down on it. They both gasped and groaned at his entry, being skin on skin. They’d never used condoms together, with Superman’s invulnerability to human diseases, and both Clark and Bruce’s safe precautions with everyone else they’d ever slept with; they’d been free to share greater intimacy.

Clark watched in awe as Bruce began moving, grinding and lifting, trying to get a handle on the technique of taking and riding his cock again. His lover’s hands caressed his back, and then held his hips. He encouraged, “So good, baby.”

Still moving, Bruce leaned down and kissed him, and then asked through stuttering breaths, “You like me riding your cock?”

“Oh, yes.” he panted softly.

Their pleasure was just as much as two years ago, or even better, because even though they could be more comfortable with each other, there was also intensity there from their time apart. 

Bruce’s hands grasped his face, and he took his mouth hungrily, and he quickened his movements. Clark moaned into his mouth, and he reached up from behind and grasped Bruce’s shoulders and pulled him down harder onto his cock, and thrust deeply. Bruce gasped, and then whined into his mouth. “God, I’ve missed this, missed being fucked.”

Clark tore his mouth away and gazed up at him uncomprehending. Their movements stilled, and Bruce whimpered quietly, “Why’ve we stopped?”

His lover shook his head, “Are you saying you haven’t been with another man since me?”

Bruce’s brow creased with consternation and then with lustful need he grinded down onto Clark’s cock. However, he answered, “Of course I haven’t; you were special.” Both his hands stroked Clark’s chest with affection and possession, “You've always have been special.”

Clark’s length of aroused flesh flexed inside his ass, and Bruce smiled down with naughty pride. He wiggled on it, “So good, I love how you fill me up.”

Suddenly, Clark rolled them over on the hay, and he gazed down at him with an untamed glint in his eyes and a wolfish smile. He knew that smile and instinctively, Bruce mirrored that smile. Then Clark was swooping down and taking his mouth, and Bruce laughed into the kiss. 

Then he groaned, as Clark thrust deeply into him. Bruce pulled his knees up, and then crossed his ankles over Clark’s lower back, and his fingers curled into the hay as Clark redoubled his efforts with tender vigour. 

They echoed each other’s gasps, and curses, and Bruce grunted every time Clark’s balls slapped against his ass. Until Clark’s jaw strained, and then he asked, “In you or on you?”

With sweat on his brow, and behind his knees, Bruce’s hands caressed his ass and he groaned, “Anyway you want, just come for me.”

Then Clark was pulsing inside Bruce’s ass. At the sensation, Bruce pushed Clark back a little, and took his own hard cock in his hand striving to come, and when Clark’s hand joined his, Bruce let go, and his hips arched forward into Clark’s fist, and his head flung back, and he watched his come spurt up between them, and then land over his own chest. 

His body quivered feeling raw and high at the same time. Clark continued stroking; watching mesmerized Bruce’s come spilling over his hand. 

Then Clark raised his sweaty face and met his gaze. There was a long moment, a pause between what they’d done and what they were going to do. Then Clark moved, and Bruce raised his head and met him halfway, and their lips met clinging and still so needy.

 

To be continued.


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Vulnerable 5   
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,545  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: The morning after.

~B~

They lay unclothed in the hay side by side. They’d caught their breath and now just lay in well satisfied lassitude. Clark let out a contented sigh. Bruce opened his eyes, and turned his head and looked at him. His friend still had his eyes closed. Bruce found that because his hair was shower damp, making it curl at the edges, it hid the sweat, so he didn’t look much different than he’d looked in the past as they’d basked in the afterglow.

His eyes followed his body, over his strong chest that was rising and falling with slow deep breaths, down his torso, there he saw the scar on his abdomen, and then further down he saw his cock, though becoming flaccid now was still pleasing. 

He knew if Clark opened his eyes, he would see the mirror image, Bruce’s hair was still damp, his torso had scars though they were older and faded now, and his cock wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep. Looking at Clark wasn’t going to help with that, he knew. He stretched out a little, and at the movement, Clark did open his eyes. Clark’s eyes admired him in return, and Bruce couldn’t help but smile.

Clark smiled too, and turned onto his side; he reached out and caressed Bruce’s lips with his thumb, “I’ve missed that too.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, “I’m sure I’ve smiled at you in the last two years.”

“Yes, you have, but a friendly smile isn’t quite the same.”

He got that, the way Clark had smiled at him today was different, “If you’d smiled at me like this in the last two years I’d have never been able to stand just being friends.”

His friend took almost shocked breath, and then he asked, “Can I finally ask why you didn’t want us to be together?”

Bruce’s face was wrought with emotion, “You were there, you must know.”

Clark shook his head and said quietly, “No, I don’t.”

“When we were together, I couldn’t concentrate…”

“On the mission…?” Clark wondered.

With feeling, Bruce admitted, “On the mission, on anything, you filled my head.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“With our way of life, yes.” he inhaled and exhaled, “Whenever you were there I couldn’t think of anything but you, during League meetings, on missions, your visits in the cave, everything became about us.”

Clark nodded along, but he reminded, “But afterwards, and we went back to being friends, I was still there at the meetings and we work together on missions. I come to the cave and we hang out, and we’re still so close, but you’re saying I no longer fill your head?”

He reached out and he caressed Clark’s cheek, “I’m very good at compartmentalizing.”

His friend smiled crookedly, “I know you are but… that’s…”

Bruce retorted, “You’ve done it too.”

Clark shrugged, “I guess I have, I put it into the background, but I’ve never been able to dismiss what I feel for you.”

He leaned in and he kissed Clark’s lips. He whispered, “From the moment, I saw you go down on the street, that storage box that I kept everything inside, it fell apart, and I don’t know if it’s strong enough to hold everything that fell out of it again.”

His friend’s brow creased and he asked, “You’re going to try though aren’t you. I know you; you’re going to try to stuff all these emotions back inside.”

He saw the pain in Clark’s eyes, and he couldn’t bear it. He kissed him again, and then again. Breathily, he whispered against his lips, “I know I should, but I don’t think I can.”

Clark’s beautiful eyes widened, “What?” he breathed.

With excitement that he’d denied himself for two years, he uttered, “I think this might be able to work now.”

His friend, his lover wondered, “How?”

He swallowed hard, and then explained, “Without your powers you can’t be there as much as you was, and with your job taking much of your time, we’d have to spend our time together like normal people, with you coming to the Manor for the weekend sometimes or me coming to Metropolis for a day during the week, and spend some quality time together.”

Clark was staring at him mutely. He knew how it sounded, and he tried to coax, “What happened is terrible for the world and for you personally but… shit I’m not saying this well, sorry.” He bowed his head.

His lover leaned in and kissed his forehead, and Bruce glanced up and met his gaze. Clark said softly, “But it’s the truth, I can’t be there all the time. It’s going to be hard living half a life…”

Bruce amended, “Baby, you were living enough for two lives before.”

Clark shook his head, “No, just one incredible, exciting big life.” he smiled, “Okay, it’s going to be hard getting used to a quieter more restrained life, but knowing I have your support it’ll be easier.”

“You have it.” He vowed, then he licked his lips, and suggested, “You could think about being support to everyone else on the team. Your knowledge, your experience, your instinct and your connection to the world of media is invaluable. You could still be part of the team, still inspire everyone.”

He saw Clark was apprehensive but he could also tell he was considering it.

Bruce coaxed, “You could still be the leader.”

In response, Clark smirked, “Oh in that case.”

He rolled his eyes, “What do you think?” 

Clark caressed Bruce’s cheek with his thumb, “I think it’ll be really nice being with you, spending personal time with you, and I promise I’ll give the rest some serious thought.”

He smiled shyly, “And you won’t mind if my conversation is all mission oriented.”

His lover pursed his lips, “No, I won’t mind, Bruce.”

They leaned in together and they kissed with passion, and tenderness.

~*~

Bruce awoke with sunshine coming in through the gaps in the wooden planks of the hayloft. They were lying with Bruce’s strong body spooning Clark’s from behind. His one arm nestled in the hay under Clark. He sighed in contentment. It was so nice laying there, just two men, two lovers, so easy to forget responsibilities. For the first time since he was a child he felt like a normal person.

He opened his eyes tentatively, and he sniggered softly as he saw the wisps of the dry grass decorating Clark’s black hair. His eyes found where their bodies were meeting bare skin to bare skin. He noticed he’d been right yesterday; the bruise on Clark’s shoulder was already fading. He kissed it tenderly.

His hand caressed the smooth tanned skin from Clark’s waist down his hip; his thumb caressed the curve of his lovely round ass cheek. He remembered Clark saying that he was going to have to start working out, but for now his body was still delicious and desirable. 

He’d revealed to Clark that he hadn’t been fucked in the time that they’d been apart, but what he hadn’t confessed was, he hadn’t been intimate in any way with another man since either. He’d told Clark he was special, and it was utterly true. How could another man compare to him. 

He kissed his nape; his silky raven locks tickled his nose. Bruce smiled and kissed it again. Then suddenly, Clark moved, and grabbed him and pressed him down into the hay, and grinned down at him.

Bruce bathed in the radiance of that smile. Then Clark descended slowly and kissed him. As the kiss ended, Clark returned to gazing at him, and he saw it unmistakeably in his eyes. Then Clark confessed in words, “I love you.”

It should’ve been a shock, but it wasn’t. He’d hidden from it for two years but he’d always known deep down what they’d shared. He swallowed hard; he asked searchingly, “Do you know?” 

Clark studied him at length, and then he told him, “Two years ago, I assumed it, and since then I almost doubted it. But right now, I think I’m sure.”

Bruce blinked slowly, and confirmed, “You’re right.”

His lover stroked his cheek, and then kissed it reverentially.

~*~

They set off on a mission like no other; they rushed out of the barn, crossed the gravel yard, and up the porch steps. Clark took a peek through the pane of glass in the kitchen door. He declared it clear, and then they sneaked through the house, up the stairs, and back into the bathroom.

They snickered like little boys as they arrived safely without being caught. They fell into each other’s arms and kissed in celebration. 

They went in the shower and helped wash each other clean. Then they got out and got dry. Bruce found his shirt on the back of the door, and his shoes and socks next to the bath. Clark went to his old bedroom to change into some clean clothes.

Bruce fixed his hair in the mirror, and caught himself smiling. Then he went downstairs, so he and Clark didn’t arrive downstairs at the same time.

He was surprised as he found Martha in the kitchen now. He straightened his shoulders, and then approached the breakfast bar. “Good morning, Martha.”

“Good morning, Bruce. Would you like coffee?” the lady offered.

“That would be nice.” he said.

“Breakfast?”

“Great.”

She poured him a mug of coffee, and Bruce reached for sugar and cream. Then Martha said, “Might as well take everything this home has to offer, huh?”

It was nonchalantly spoken, but Bruce felt the barbs. He guessed, “We’re not as stealthy as we thought?”

The older woman narrowed her gaze, “No, you’re not. Or you didn’t you think I’d notice both of your clothes left in the bathroom.”

He took a fortifying breath, “I apologise for any embarrassment caused, Martha.”

His lover’s mother tensed her jaw subtly, and she spoke with poise, “I know how much you two have always cared about each other, but I’m worried you’re rushing into something too soon.”

He admitted, “I understand your apprehension.”

She nodded, but then she uttered, “My apprehension is that it took you weeks to turn up after the shooting, and then within an hour of being here my son had a split lip, and after two years of acting as though what happened between you was nothing but a bit of fun, you took my newly vulnerable son to bed.”

There was a part of him, the part that didn’t take shit from anyone that wanted to reply to those sharp words in kind, but he didn’t want to antagonise the lady that he respected. He could try to defend his actions. He could tell her that her son had hit him first. He could say that despite his own desires it had been Clark who had seduced him, or that despite his depowered state Clark was still one of the strongest people he knew and couldn’t be unduly influenced.

Instead, he told her with respect, “There was no rush, Martha. In fact, as you say it has been long delayed and that was my fault. However, what’s happened recently has brought how I feel into focus. And that man up those stairs feels it too. It’s not the future that I envisaged, but I promise to care for and honour him.”

He could see in her eyes that she wanted to believe him, she knew him better than most people, she was his best friend’s mom after all. He smiled encouragingly, “It’s okay; I have plenty of time to prove myself to you.”

A moment later, Clark left the stairs and entered the kitchen. He didn’t know how much Clark had overheard, now he was under the constraints of human hearing but his friend gave him a twitch of a smile, and then took a seat next to him at the breakfast bar. He watched as mother and son shared a moment, as Clark gave her a glimmer of that radiant smile that he shot Bruce’s way in the hayloft. He saw the worry and doubt leave careworn eyes, and a motherly tenderness shine through. Then Martha asked, “Coffee, Sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Mom.” Clark replied.

~*~

After they’d shared breakfast, Bruce made the hard decision to leave and get back to Gotham. It was tempting to stay in Smallville, and live a simpler life for a while, but getting back to the new normal was essential. Clark agreed saying that he was going to have get back to Metropolis and start figuring out how to be a typical reporter.

Clark walked him to his car in the yard. There was a moment just before he got in the car that Clark’s face became serious, and Bruce tilted his head and smirked, “We can make this work, Clark.”

Then he leaned in and kissed his lover. Clark groaned and deepened the kiss for a moment. But as they pulled away, Clark still looked serious. Then he got to the point, “I want you to bring it to me.”

He locked gazes with him, until what he meant dawned on him. “You mean the gold Kryptonite?”

Clark replied, “Yes, I mean the gold K, it’s the only piece we know of that’s in the public domain and I don’t want Conner or Kara being attacked like I was.”

“You’re going to destroy it?”

“No…” he said, and Bruce’s eyes widened and Clark continued, “You were right, using it against someone like Zod is good strategy but it can’t stay in human hands.”

Bruce tilted his head and said wryly, “You’re human now.”

Clark shook his head, and said sombrely, “No I’m not. When I was a kid, I’d have deluded myself into believing that but I accepted what I am a long time ago now. I’m Kryptonian with powers or without them.”

He nodded along admiring Clark’s self-knowledge.

His friend smiled, “My parents didn’t have powers and they were happy.”

Bruce smiled back, “The El’s or the Kent’s?”

Clark chuckled, “Both.”

There was a moment of silence, then Clark urged, “The gold K it isn’t safe.”

Bruce wanted to deny that statement, and if two years ago he’d put the gold Kryptonite in his safe behind all the security of his home as he’d done with the bullet after the incident he could’ve, but not under the circumstances. He took a breath, and then he nodded, “I’ll be back with it by the end of the day.”

Clark nodded, and then Bruce got in his car. Just as he’d started up, Clark knocked on his window. Bruce pressed the button and the window came down. He met Clark’s gaze expectantly, and then Clark leaned in the open window and kissed him. Bruce groaned, and cupped his head. Then Clark pulled back, he murmured, “See you later.”

Bruce smiled with fondness, “See you later.”

Clark stepped away, and Bruce put the car in reverse, and turned it around in the yard and then headed back down the dirt driveway and headed for Gotham.

 

To be continued.


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Vulnerable 6/6  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,519   
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce comes to a conclusion.

~*~

He’d returned home to the Manor. He told Alfred that he was back, and then went upstairs. He had a shave, got some fresh clothes, a suit and tie. Then he went to the cave, and he got the gold K bullet out of the safe. He put it into a lead capsule. Then he left the Manor and drove to Wayne Enterprises.

After a few nods of greeting as he arrived in the building, he went and found Lucius. He entered his office and the older man looked up, and greeted him, “Good day, Mr Wayne.”

He returned wryly, “Hello, Mr Fox.” Then he got down to business, “What’s the word on our renegade scientist?”

“Arkham Asylum is holding her temporarily, she’s undergoing evaluation. As I told you on the phone, we’re hard pressed coming up with charges.” Lucius tilted his head and asked, “Any word on Superman; that’d be a good place to start?”

Though he was his ally, it was still difficult for him to feel comfortable sharing anyone else’s secrets. However, he said, “His condition isn’t ready to be established yet.”

The shrewd older man nodded, “So Superman is still alive?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and revealed obliquely, “Kal-El of Krypton isn’t deceased.”

There was a pause, and then Bruce told him why he was here, “I want any remnants of the gold Kryptonite, fragments, dust anything that’s left, lead lined and ready to go.”

Lucius’s brow creased, and then sighed gustily, “You really weren’t paying attention to the project, were you.”

~*~

Minutes later, they were in the labs. Lucius led him to the one dedicated to the ‘gold shield’ project. Once there, Lucius went to the walk-in safe, input the code and then another, then opened the safe door. The security was tight but when a wildcard held the code, security meant nothing.

A moment later, Lucius returned from the safe carrying a large square case. He laid it on the lab bench. He caught Bruce’s eye, and Bruce returned the look with narrowed eyes. “What’s this?”

“She might’ve been a fruitcake, but she was good at her job. This is the project we set her off working on two years ago.” Lucius said and then he opened the clasps, and lifted the lid off.

Bruce’s stomach dropped as he saw the stalagmite of gold crystal. He looked closer and saw through the semi-transparent gold, down at the bottom, there was a solid gold core. He swallowed hard, “She managed to grow this from the tiny piece I brought here.”

“As I said she was good at her job.”

His thoughts turned to the bullet, the piece in the lead lined capsule in his pocket. “So, she shot him with a piece of what she’d grown. It wasn’t the original piece.”

“It looks that way.” Lucius said, “The piece you brought in is down at the bottom, completely integral to the growth.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I can see it.” then he said, “Okay, doesn’t matter. Is that case it’s in lead lined?”

“Of course, it does give off radiation, though it supposedly doesn’t affect humans, it’s better to be safe.”

“Good.” He turned, and he went to the computer station and sat down. As he read through the experiment analysis, he asked, “I want her belongings searched, her apartment, relatives homes, anyone who worked with her, and who might have excess to the information, this lab, the locker room, anywhere she might’ve kept notes, electronic or paper, I want it destroyed, I want to make sure her work isn’t available to anyone.”

There was silence. He knew Lucius didn’t like to do anything immoral, but he knew for the greater good that dislike could be overcome. So Bruce added, “We have to protect Superboy and Supergirl. If anything like Darkseid or Doomsday comes here again we’re going to need the rest of the House of El.”

He heard the older man take a fortifying breath, and then agree, “It’ll be done.”

Bruce’s full focus returned to what he was reading. He read how she’d found a way to make a meteorite act like a crystal. He licked his lips, and said over his shoulder, “She changed the sequencing, added an element which changed the chemical links.”

“Hmm-mm.” the older man concurred.

His heart rose into his throat as he said, “It isn’t pure.”

Lucius leaned over his shoulder and looked closer at the screen, and said, “We didn’t like the outcome, but it did the job. It neutralized a Kryptonian.”

A picture came to Bruce’s mind, a beautiful vision, the lightly tanned soft skin of a shoulder, and of a bruise already fading overnight. He took a shaky breath and covered his mouth, “Shit.”

The older man asked, “What is it, Bruce?”

If he was right, god what was he going to do? 

There was no way of knowing until it happened. Damn, he still needed to finish what he’d started here, he set to work. He encrypted the files on the computer for now, he would send a search and destroy virus from the cave computer to smash any remnants across the Wayne tech server. Once they’d done that he’d head back to Smallville.

~*~

He parked up in the yard, got the case out the trunk, walked up to the farmhouse and then went to the door. Before he could knock, the door was opened and Clark was standing there. His friend smiled when he saw him, and then his gaze found the case he was holding, and his face became neutral. He said, “Come in.”

He entered the kitchen and nodded to Martha Kent in greeting. Having nowhere else to put it, he placed it on the worktop. The protective mother watched her son cautiously as he approached the enclosed poison.

Clark eyed it, and then blew out a hard breath, “So it’s in there.”

Bruce nodded stoically.

“The piece we had was smaller…” Clark began.

He echoed Lucius, “She knew her job. She grew more.”

Even though, it was supposedly harmless to him now, Clark didn’t ask to look at it. He shook his head, “You’re saying this woman found a way to grow Kryptonite that means she could grow green as well.”

He revealed, “I’m having all the research destroyed.”

His best friend knew him better than anyone, so he didn’t ask for details or second guess his strategy. He only said, “But she remembers.”

He took a breath, “J'onn is going to visit her in Arkham.”

Clark nodded stoically at the implication of a mind wipe. 

Bruce added, “Just the knowledge that she discovered, not the act of shooting you or anything personal.” he glanced at Martha and reassured, “She’ll be charged with something, or sectioned.”

He watched as Clark walked into the dining room. He picked something up from the table. As he returned to the kitchen with it, Bruce saw it was a hexagonal shaped metallic disk. Clark saw his curious look and explained, “It’s my ship’s key, it’s how I got to the Fortress before I could fly.”

“That’s where you’re taking it?”

Clark showed him a smile, and glanced towards his mom, “I don’t think the storm cellar is going to cut it.”

Martha’s cheeks rounded as she smiled at her son’s joke. 

Then his friend looked to him, and asked, “Are you going to be here when I get back?”

Public displays of affection weren’t his thing, yet he stepped closer and he kissed him as his response. Clark smiled softly, and then he went to pick up the case. But Martha suddenly gasped and said, “You should put a coat on, it’s cold up there.”

Clark smirked, “I think I’ll be fine.”

Then with the lead lined case in one hand and the hexagonal disk in the other, Clark raised it and focused his attention on it. There was a pause, and it looked like Jor-El wasn’t going to acknowledge the call, but then it began emanating light, and it engulfed Clark and then he blinked out of sight.

Once he was gone, Bruce turned and met Martha’s gaze to find she was already looking at him. Then she said, “There’s something you haven’t told, Clark.”

His lips quirked at the corners, and he said, “Maybe you should be the detective, Martha.”

Martha smiled fondly, the tension between them this morning faded just like Clark’s bruise. He winced at the thought, and Martha gazed at him expectantly.

~*~

He was standing in Clark’s teenage loft at the opposite end to the hayloft, where they’d come together last night for the first time in two years. He was waiting for Clark’s return from the Fortress of Solitude. He imagined the haughty AI would want to scan the case before putting it into storage. He wondered if Jor-El had come to the same conclusion that he had. He wondered what was going through Clark’s mind as he was being told.

Or maybe Bruce was wrong, maybe the bruise fading was just Clark being a naturally fast healer.

He watched the sunset from the window. The soft golden rays of the sun, and the light pink sky, reminded him of Clark’s beautiful face flushed with arousal as they’d made love.

He swallowed hard at the epithet his mind came up with for the sensuality that they’d shared.

As the sun got lower on the horizon, he noticed a shadow at the centre of the solar disk. He strained to see, and then the shadow was closer. Bruce’s body trembled with both fear and awe. Then the shadow emerged from the light. The figure was still at a distance, but he could see him, and recognise him in the halo of the sunset.

And Bruce felt vulnerable.

He floated there a moment, just gazing towards him, then he disappeared in the blink of his eye.

Bruce took a steady breath. Now looking out at nothing but the sunset, he wondered if it was a trick of his mind. He gazed out searching the horizon, until he heard the creak of floorboards behind him. He turned quickly, and Clark finished climbing the wooden stairs and entered the loft.

Their gazes met and then a long moment of trepidation followed. Then Bruce asked stoically, “Are you back?”

Clark stepped closer. “You knew?”

“I saw the science; I saw that it wasn’t pure. I didn’t know for a fact until a minute ago. That was you out there?”

“It wasn’t pure, and that meant it was closer in composition to other colours of Kryptonite, Jor-El could neutralize it…” he motioned towards the setting sun, “I needed that to recharge.”

“How does it feel?” he wondered.

Clark inhaled slowly, and revealed, “The world’s loud and bright. I feel burdened and relieved and free all at the same time. I feel the energy in my cells and it feels good, I feel really good.”

Bruce took a shaky breath, and then turned and looked at the beautiful sunset again. With strain in his body, his heart and in his voice, he said, “I guess we don’t have to give a statement to the public now. Superman is alive and well.”

With roughness in his voice, his friend said, “But there’s a price isn’t there. You won’t let me have both.”

“Your mom was right, we rushed.” he said.

Just above a whisper, Clark said, “Bruce.”

At the fragile sound, he turned and met his gaze. Clark tensed his jaw, and then told him, “I can’t do it again, I can’t go back to just being friends. I somehow managed it last time…” his jaw tightened even more. “Maybe I was stronger then.” and then unshed tears glistened in his beautiful eyes, “It would kill me to try to do it again.”

It killed Bruce to see the heartache there. His friend now fully powered yet just as vulnerable as he was yesterday. “I never meant to hurt you…” he took a heavy breath, “or myself.” He winced, “One day, if I’d just gone to the lab and looked at the figures yesterday instead of coming here.”

In response, Clark wiped his eyes, and laughed brokenly. “You’re really gonna get the scotch tape out and try and stick that box back together again aren’t you?”

“Clark.” he sighed in frustration.

Clark approached him, leaned in closer, and whispered ruefully, “You never know in another two years we could have another roll in the hay.” Then he shrugged, “Or maybe I might’ve gotten over you and moved on by then.”

He knew Clark was hurting and the words were self-protecting spite, but he also knew that it could very well be true. He’d been lucky these last two years that Clark hadn’t found someone. The thought of watching Clark from a friendly distance being happy with someone else scared Bruce as much as the trepidation of being with him. 

Clark squinted at him, and then went to step away. Bruce knew he couldn’t stop a fully powered Clark Kent if he didn’t want to stop, so instead he threw himself at him, and took his mouth hard.

There was stillness of surprise, and a low groan from his friend and then his strong arms wrapped around Bruce’s torso tightly and his mouth took his in return, hungry and a little desperate. Bruce felt the gentle tempered strength in Clark’s embrace. His body remembered the feeling; it felt like coming home, like being in those super strong arms was where he belonged. Bruce moaned and he cupped his head and kissed him with everything that he felt for him, the solidarity of a comrade, the bond of friendship, the passion for his lover, and his possession of the man. 

Bruce’s need for breath separated them, and they gazed at each other forehead to forehead. With passion, Clark asked breathily, “This isn’t one hell of a goodbye kiss is it?”

Panting, he admitted, “Yes.”

Clark’s eyes widened, and his brow creased, and he uttered, “No, don’t say that.”

Bruce leaned in and kissed his lips, and whispered, “I have to go home.” His lover’s brow puckered even more, and Bruce grinned, “You can come by, after you’ve shown the world that Superman is back.”

Clark gasped softly, and then his smile blossomed, and he shook his head with joyful exasperation. 

He caressed his smiling cheek, and teased, “You better not distract me too often.”

His friend raised a taunting eyebrow, “And I thought you was the master of focus.”

Bruce nodded, “That’s the problem. When you become my focus, you’re everything.”

Clark leaned in and kissed him gently, “I promise to only distract you when you want me to.”

He knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but having Clark was worth the try and if it didn’t work out, nobody could say that he hadn’t tried. He pressed his lips to Clark’s alluring smile again.

 

The end


End file.
